An Office Affair
by Rachel2
Summary: Percival Graves has been ignoring Tina Goldstein successfully for 23 glorious days since her demotion. He would decide if they could 'enjoy' a professional relationship—or any other kind of relationship. A series of GoldGraves moments.
1. Stocking Connoisseur

Things with Tina had changed from okay to worse over the past month - Percival hadn't intended to ruin their working relationship, but Goldstein had left him little choice. If he had known how alienated she felt already, he would have at least made cordial eye contact; but with each day they had to walk past each other, Percival made sure her eyes could only focus on his well-pressed suits and slicked back hair. Their eyes would never meet.

He found it to be a great diversion tactic that he used frequently when he no longer wished to interact with someone, the very best way to make a person feel less than, and in turn put him in a position of power. Percival would decide if they could ' _enjoy_ ' a professional relationship—or any other kind of relationship.

For now, his working relationship with Tina Goldstein had ended, and therefore any interaction with her would end as well. That had been the plan anyway.

Twenty-three glorious days had passed, and on the twenty-fourth things changed. He could see the icy wet clumps that gathered on Tina's winter boots as she hustled up the staircase toward the elevator; a mixture of sleet and snow had made for a miserable commute for most in New York City that morning, and as he glanced, deliberately casual, he noted that for her it had been no different.

He could feel Tina's eyes on him, her sad, amber brown eyes. Not that he marked such things as the particular tonality of his Auror's eyes.

Unfortunately, this diversion made him painfully aware of Tina's legs. He had noticed and cataloged, that Tina often liked to hike her skirt up over her knees when she needed to make a quick journey up the congress staircase. She had a freckle on her left kneecap and preferred nude stockings. Her slips were often a different color each day - the first one he had noticed was lavender, the second navy blue. He preferred the navy one.

Goldstein's coat was also blue. It flattered her pale skin. Purposefully coordinated? Percival wondered. It was always well-kempt, except for today. Today her coat was messy, dotted with little black cat hairs along the lower left side.

Who, exactly, did Tina know that had a cat? In the recent months before her fall from Magical Security to the Wand Permit Office, Tina had been far too busy working long hours for him in Magical Security. She could not possibly own a cat – he had made quite sure of that. Perhaps it belonged to Queenie, her sister. Percival's mind wandered to the worst possibility – had Tina Goldstein taken a lover? No, she wouldn't be sulking around work so much if she had some man in her bed to return to, right?

Did her lover – possible lover – know what color slip she wore today? Had he taken notice of a black lace trim that peaked out just at the edge of her hemline? Did her lover know she had runs in her stockings? Percival, who prided himself on being particularly observant about all such relevant aspects of her person.

If he were Tina's lover he would have a house elf bring her a new pair, free of runs, but not before tearing the ruined ones from her legs, hiking up her skirt and having his way with her. Perhaps she would lift it up for him?

"Sir?" Tina asked.

Percival's attention returned to the present, and much to his disbelief and disquiet, found his fantasy had gotten the best of him. Unlike his usual focused self, and to his own damnation, he had been so consumed by the thought that Tina had a lover hidden away somewhere that he had stopped in the middle of the hallway, transfixed by her and the illusion of what she would or he could do to her.

"Director Graves, are you alright?" A young man from the artifact research department had also stopped on his way to the elevator, whilst several others paused tense on the steps to observe the scene that was unfolding. Merlin, a scene! Riddled with panic that one of his Aurors could be aware of his daydream, Percival bent forward and let out a violent cough. He grasped at his chest to make it extra dramatic and convincing - too convincing.

His impromptu performance startled Tina so badly that she took a step back, her left foot squeaking as it slipped across the polished tile floor and off the top platform, her arms flying out to either side as she let out a sharp surprised scream.

In a kneejerk reaction, Percival reached out and caught Miss Goldstein, his left arm curled tight around her waist to prevent her fall. He pulled her close, with his face pressed firm to her belly and her wobbly knees steadied against his shoulders; he held her for a long moment, to make sure she wasn't going to topple over again. Inhaling deeply to force another raspy cough from his perfectly healthy lungs, he noticed that she smelled like peppermint and vanilla.

"Mister Graves, Miss Goldstein!" The shocked voices cried, spurred into action by the outburst and near accident and awkward position this had placed himself and Tina in. Percival clenched his jaw and peered around them - there were many gazes both scandalized and far too speculative for his liking, and whispered words of imminent gossip shared between a group of gaggling young women from the mailroom.

With care, Percival lowered his arm, allowing his hand to slide from her waist down the back of her left thigh. He let his middle finger catch on the run of her stocking. Her skin was still cool to the touch, fresh from the outdoors. He brushed off some ice from her boots.

"Clean off your shoes, Goldstein." He demanded, his voice venomous, lacking any kindness. Percival turned his head up to meet her frightened gaze. "You're late." Much to his dismay, this fleeting glance was enough to give Tina the hope and the affirmation she seemingly needed to speak to him again.

"Thank you, Perci...Percival." Tina stammered, quickly correcting herself. "Mister Graves." She exhaled the defeated whisper of his last name.

Percival stood straight up, miraculously cured of whatever had ailed him. He ignored the hum of murmurs, and without another word made his way imperiously down the staircase and away from Tina.

Perturbed by his own actions, Percival kept his thoughts focused on her fragile waist and how light she had felt. With a huff, he chanced a look back as Tina waited for the elevator. He was tall enough to glance across the hustle and bustle of the MACUSA morning rush, and make out the hat pinned neatly to her hair as she lowered her head. Her shoulders quivered as she brought a handkerchief up to her face and blotted, attempting subtlety. Why on earth would she be crying? He had saved her the humiliation of cracking her head open on the marble staircase. Percival rolled his eyes and continued to the cafeteria for his much-needed coffee. He wouldn't stand for this kind of pathetic weepy behavior if she were still working under him.


	2. Should Have Locked Your Door Percy

"At last." Graves sat back in his chair and took a long, slow sip of his coffee. He told everyone he drank it strong and black, but always added heavy cream and sugar when no one was looking. A lamp on his desk and an illuminated display case on the far wall dimly lit his office, the case displaying scopes and books he had collected over the years. He eyed the scope he knew Tina favored the most.

"Percy, did you fire Miss Goldstein?" Seraphina Picquery pushed the door aside and let herself in without knocking. He hated when she called him that, and hated it more when she left the door open so half his aurors could overhear her doing it. She knew it too.

"Madam President, I'm not sure what you're talking ab—" As usual, she wasn't one for listening to excuses or explanations, real or otherwise.

"I've heard rumor – and it better be rumor, Percy," an implied threat that had him merely raising an eyebrow at her as she carried on, looming over his desk, "the ladies in administration are saying Tina Goldstein screamed by the elevator and then ran off crying after you fired her. Two confirmed that you nearly threw her down the staircase. They're saying that you abuse your power and bully your staff!"  
Percival pushed his chair back and stood in a display of respect to Seraphina; with her hair pulled back into a wrap she was taller than him, though he'd always felt they were evenly matched in style and stature, not to mention ability. Her dress was regal, pressed silks and fine stitching, no expense spared. How kind of her to stop by and bother him in the midst of a mountain of reports.

"Fabricated hogwash - she slipped and I helped her, nothing more." A part of him now wished he _had_ thrown Tina down the staircase to warrant such accusations.

"And was she crying?" Seraphina walked over to the glass case and leaned against it. He wondered why her sudden concern. "The girl looks up to you." Did that mean she was deserving of some special treatment?

"We demoted her, she doesn't deserve my attention, and is no longer my problem."

Picquery looked at him as though she could see straight through him, as though she were a Legilimens and his Occlumency walls were parchment thin. That was another thing he hated, to add to his long list. "Only because it is law, only to protect the Statute. There was no excuse for her risking everything we stand for over one No-Maj child."

"Three. There were _three_ children involved." Percival had read over the report so many times he could recite it word for word. Paying attention to the details was his bread and butter work, so he had no qualms about correcting her, no matter their relative positions.

"Well, either way, one or three or none at all, that isn't what I'm here to discuss - handle the situation before it blows out of proportion. Intimidating your subordinates is one thing, but rumors that Percival Graves abuses his power are something else altogether."

"As you say, Madam President." Percival bowed toward her curtly but respectfully as she left for her duties.

It required two additional coffees and a pastry to make it through the workday. He struggled to hold back various obscenities and hexes after listening to the endless drivel of debriefings that poured in from his newly selected recruits - Percival had to promote three new Junior Aurors to replace the workload Tina had handled by herself; in hindsight, he certainly couldn't fault her efficiency.

"Smith, close the door on your way out." Percival barked at his latest hire. Charles Smith was a short young man with freckles and wavy blonde hair, too young and hopeful for this line of work. Percival was satisfied enough with him though. Smith's attempts to impress had saved him some extra paperwork and another headache with the Madam President, but his clumsy wand work though - that just left a bad taste in his mouth.

"Sir?" Merlin's beard, couldn't he take a hint and leave?

"What now, Smith?" Percival tapped a quill against an ornate inkwell before signing various documents, some things he liked to do the old fashioned way. Giving undue time to his wide-eyed juniors once dismissed was not one of them.

"Is it true? I mean…did you save Tina Goldstein?"

Percival's head and shoulders slumped over, quill stilled in his hand. He gritted his teeth and debated the ramifications of turning Smith into a pigeon. With a calm, deep breath he sat back in his seat, folding one leg over the other, and neatly placed his quill back in the inkwell in one decisive longsuffering movement.

"What about Goldstein?" He glanced over at his liquor cabinet and then to the clock. Merlin, he needed a drink.

"Well, the girls were all in a tizzy this afternoon at lunch, sir. They were listening to the mailroom talk about how Tina Goldstein fell over the railing. You know, the one by the elevator?" Charles brushed his hair back, set down his paperwork and raised his hands into the air, seemingly miming out this heroic event. Percival hadn't taken Smith as one for theatrics. This day needed to end. Was he still prattling on? "She was holding onto the railing," He looked over to Percival with frightened eyes. "Percival, _help_!" He mimicked Tina, and not at all well in Percival's opinion - he really didn't think anyone who knew Tina Goldstein would believe she cried out like some damsel in distress. "You grabbed her just before she fell, saving her life!" Smith's bright blue eyes lit up like firecrackers, full of awe and admiration. "I want to be just like you, sir. She would have died, that's amazing. I'm really honored to be working with you."

"Charles." Percival rapped his fingers on his desk, schooling his features so as not to look too scathing and incur further rumors and visits from Picquery. "Did Miss Goldstein inform you of this?" He'd have her head for this. Not to mention the fact that any basic cushioning or levitation charm from himself or a passerby would have saved Tina's life – had she indeed actually fallen from the railing – and it bothered him to no end that people were gossiping about him with some silly story that didn't even make sense in the first place, had they stopped to think about it. Which they clearly had not. What kind of witches and wizards was he working with?!

"No, sir. She hasn't been seen in the cafeteria lately, or the usual break rooms I'm told," Charles picked up his files and leaned forward to whisper, as though letting his boss in on some highly classified information. "No one sees her around much since the demotion, and she eats down in the wand permit office or leaves and heads to some No-Maj joint. You would know that though."

Would he know that? Percival rested his fingers against his mouth, considering this new information about Tina's activities, which he hadn't paid too much mind to himself. How had an icy boot turned into a life or death rescue? "Thank you, Smith. You may go."

"No, thank you, sir. You saved Miss Goldstein. I really admired her work with childr—."

"Please leave." Percival was exasperated as he waved his arm toward the door, restraining any tempting wandless magic that might have otherwise propelled the eager boy out with force.

Charles' eyes widened. "Yes, sir. Of course, sir. See you tomorrow, sir." He clutched the paperwork to his chest, bowed his head, and fled Percival's office.

Percival poured himself a shot of firewhiskey and drank it back - Tina Goldstein would be the death of him. He grabbed the delicately carved glass bottle and brought it over to his desk, waving a hand to shut his ajar office door, blocking out the activity of his department as most began to head home for the evening. With a slow sip and recline back in his chair again, he cast a Muffliato whilst completing some paperwork. He just wanted some peace and quiet to think.

His mind wandered to Tina's skirt, and the way she let him run his hand from the small of her back over her buttock and down her leg. His finger catching in the run of her stockings and the hint of soft flesh exposed. The more he thought about it, the more he focused on the tremble in her knees.

An hour passed and half the bottle of Ogden's had gone with it, his face was flushed from the alcohol and his mind had traveled to more carnal desires. Graves tugged his tie off and unbuttoned the top half of his shirt. It was one of those nights. He took a slow drag from a cigarette and let his eyes roll shut as a hand drifted down to his trousers.

He imagined that he was back at home, with no more work to worry about. The loft space was large with minimal furnishing, but art deco in design. Simple, clean, and without the memories and nosy house elves that came attached to the vacant Graves family home that he barely found the time to go to any more. This was _his_ place, and he could see it now in his mind's eye - against the far wall a large glass window spanning from ceiling to floor, below it a gray, herringbone couch with drink cart and glass coffee table. Percival glanced out of the window with a view over Lower Manhattan, the Woolworth Building illuminated in the distance - MACUSA always in view one way or another. He had slipped off his belt and pulled his shirt free, ready to relax for the evening and enjoy himself.

"Percival?" A female voice called out and a hand knocked at the door.

Frustrated in more ways than one, he tugged his front door open with darkened eyes, poised to berate whoever had come calling for disturbing him, but it's Tina, in a far skimpier version of what she'd worn to work this morning, something he couldn't really imagine her ever wearing in reality—possible lover. No, reality wasn't the point of this, and he banished those thoughts away, focusing himself back on the scene playing out in his mind.

She looks up at him, her eyes sad and regretful, and her hair damp with snow.

"Do you want a drink, Goldstein?" He walks across the room and pours two glasses before she has time to answer.

"Whatever you're having." Her voice sounded sultrier than usual, purposeful.

Percival turned around as her coat slipped over her shoulders and fell on the floor. "You shouldn't be here, Tina." A warning. Percival stirs the drink with his finger, and takes a sip, strong.

"I'm sorry that I'm a disappointment to you." Tina takes the other glass and drinks down the bourbon with ease. His dark intent gaze falls to her blouse; thin white silk, her nipples hard from the cold. "Reinstate me, you know how good I am." She seems bold suddenly.

"No." His denial is earnest as he turns to take a seat on the couch. He leans forward and rests his elbows on his legs, glass cradled in hand. This is for her own good.

"I'll do anything…" She murmurs and drops to her knees before him.

Graves' breath is labored as he rocks back in his chair. He strokes himself through his pants. He imagines Tina's hands coiled around him, mouthing wet kisses through the fabric of his pants.

"We can't." He murmurs through a clenched jaw. Caught up in the fantasy, his fingers fumble for the buttons, unpracticed but eager like he imagines hers would be, giving him better access to his erection and sighing at the relief of skin to skin. "Tina…"

"Sir?" Tina knocks on the door, her head peaking through.

Graves' eyes flash open. On reflex he falls forward in his chair; the springs screeching as he pulls his legs swiftly under his desk to hide his exposed cock. His hands slap hard against the desk, elbow knocking over the firewhiskey bottle, spilling the remains across his open case files, soaking through a week's worth of paperwork. He utters a muffled curse.


	3. Percival Graves - Elevator Escort

"Oh!" Tina exclaimed. She turned her head sharply to the left, looking at Percival's display case. She was dressed to leave in her long winter coat, with a hat pinned to her frizzed head of hair. "I-I didn't think you'd still be here." She turned around as if to give him privacy. Percival glanced at his reflection in the glass and shifted his chair enough to hide anything obscene from his reflection in the glass case, but it was probably too late.

As Graves looked down at his desk, he carefully tucked himself back into his slacks. He took a slow, deep breath to calm his pulse and watched the ink blend with the liquor, making small, swirling pools of bronze and black. If he played it off like nothing, would Tina say anything? Did she see _him_? Did the room smell of salt? He took a sharp inhale, unsure. Tina was probably too innocent to know if a room smelt of sex. He hexed himself for moaning her name aloud.

"What time is it?" he asked, checking his pocket watch. "You're here late." Graves watched her for another moment, drilling his eyes into the back of her skull. Could she feel his gaze on her? He wanted to pull her into his lap. What would her reaction be when she felt his erection against her buttock?

"I wanted to drop some mail off on your desk." She said.

"They have you working the mail desk now?" He straightened, his head spinning.

"No, it's a letter that I wanted to deliver this myself." She explained.

As Percival stood, the half bottle of Ogden's caught up to his head. The room started to spin. Graves blindly buttoned up his shirt. He didn't think sickness would follow; he once drank an entire bottle of giggle water on a dare and survived the night.

"Hmm," he nodded. "Go wait for me by the elevator. I'll walk you out." He motioned with his hands, shushing her away, and without a second glance, Tina removed herself from the room. "Hell…" he trailed off and weakly muttered a reversal spell that still left traces of ink and fire whiskey on his shirt. Percival patted at his pants, damp despite the spell, and adjusted himself, standing straight to examine the visibility of his erection. Unless Tina meant to check him out, he didn't think she would notice.

Tipsy, he stumbled a bit as he grabbed his jacket, coat, and scarf and made for the elevator. Major Investigations had grown to be a rather large space in recent months, but apart from a weakening orb spell, you could hardly see past your footfall once it was after hours. Graves waved his hands to brush the spheres out of view. Tina stood backlit by the gas lamp above the elevator entrance. Her short hair bobbed and shifted as she chattered with Red, the goblin.

"Good evening, sir." Red greeted, studying Percival's unkempt appearance. Of everyone in MACUSA to judge you, this creature was the one to do it. Percival placed a hand on his hip, holding his coat, scarf and suit jacket over his arm. His dress shirt was untucked, but he had managed to button it with his vest in an attempt to cover himself. "I told Goldstein she wasn't welcome, but she threatened my life, you see," he said, moving his gnarled yellow fingernail across his throat while glaring at Tina.

"That will be all, Red. You can leave for the night." He didn't bother to look at him as Red stepped away. He instead watched the light dancing across Tina's face. The flame from the lamp spilled light across her pale skin highlighting a warm glow across her cheekbone, the bridge of her nose and the outline of her lips. Would the real Tina do anything for him, do anything to him? Would she go to her knees? He shook at the thought and made an overly trying effort to keep his posture straight.

As Red disappeared into the shadows, Percival counted to thirty while fantasizing about what part of Tina's body he desired to ravish the most. Would she let him? Mercy Lewis, this was why he ignored Tina; the girl drove him mad. If she had the slightest idea of how often he fantasized himself fucking her, it might kill him—or make him finish on the spot.

"Sir, here." She held out a folded piece of paper, sealed with a wax charm only Percival could tear open.

Percival plucked it from her hand and stuck it into his coat pocket. "I'll read it later." He walked into the elevator and waited for Tina to follow. It was darker inside, harder for her to notice the outline of his cock through his slacks. He fidgeted as his penis started to soften.

"Sir, I just want to say that I know I've been a disappointment." Her words beckoned Percival back into his fantasy. He had imagined Tina nearly verbatim; her voice had been sexier—everything was a bit more heated. Would the actual Tina show up at his place in the night? It was bad enough that she turned up in his office during after hours. He thought he had alienated her better than that.

"Many would agree." He knew his words hurt Tina when the glint of hope in her eyes faded. "You were demoted," he reminded her. Seraphina made Graves tell her early on a Monday morning. Tina showed great strength of character that day. She didn't falter when she walked out of his office without a word, determined to prove him and the department that she deserved her job as an auror.

"I can't work for the wand department." Tina's head lowered in defeat. Her hat shifted, and a gold plated hatpin fell to the floor with a quiet pip-pip-pip. He watched as it rolled forward and stopped when it met the sole of his shoe.

As Tina's lip quivered, he brought his focus back to the pull in her stockings. He arched an eyebrow as her chest shuddered. Had he broken her to the point of crying already? No, his darker desires chimed in, he certainly had not. With a quiet sob, she started to cry.

It had been a particularly trying day for them both, he rationalized. "It's nothing to get upset over," he said in a soothing voice as he slipped a hand into his pants pocket. "Here, have it." He offered her his handkerchief, letting his jacket and coat slip to the floor. "Seraphina addressed me this morning over rumors that I publicly fired you." He looked down and saw the bits of cat hair still on her coat, barely visible in the low light.

"I wrote about that in the letter." She gestured toward his pocket. "I wanted to thank you and also apologize for earlier," Tina said, and quickly sniffed back some tears. She brushed the corners of her eyes with his handkerchief. "I know you're avoiding me, so I figured leaving the letter would get the message to you, and we wouldn't have to interact." The root of the problem wasn't the gossip; it wasn't even the decision to cut off contact, it was his overwhelming urges for Tina that drove him mad. He now knew how cool her skin felt to the touch and worse; that she didn't pull away from him as he ran his hand down her thigh.

"Give the wand department a few more weeks; the gals will come around." Graves slouched forward to meet her at eye level. "Remember, when you started as an auror right out of Ilivermorny?" He winked as Tina laughed back more tears. "You know, it took me a lot to convince Phina not to dismiss you altogether." Percival looked to the gated door and motioned for it to close with his hands. It trembled but didn't move more than an inch. His magic was pathetically weak whenever he had too much alcohol.

"It's not just the girls, Abernathy is _awful_." She frowned. "The way he orders me, the way the girls giggle every time he gives me a new demand or scolds me for the littlest actions that aren't up to his satisfaction—"

"Hmm..." He nodded in agreement. He'd handle Abernathy on Monday. "Hey, are you pet sitting?" Percival changed the subject as he gestured to the cat hair.

"Oh," she smiled, noticing the hairs on her coat and brushed them off. "It's my landlord's cat."

"What?" The owner was surely a married man. His mind was ablaze with new thoughts. How old of a man was he? What of his wife? Would Tina be the type to have an affair with a married man? The idea of this man having a set of keys and allowing himself inside Tina's bedroom without knocking drove him insane.

He imagined her having sex in her bed. The comforter tossed to the floor, her back arched upward; she's close to orgasm. She moans, but instead of the landlord, he's the one top of her. He has her thighs hooked over his shoulders and grabs at the cast iron headboard with one hand while he fondles her breast with the other. His mouth is crushed against hers to keep her from screaming—alerting the neighbors.

"Percy." Tina smiles.

"I'm sorry?" Percival shook his head and furrowed his eyebrows, removed from the fantasy. He would fire her for such insubordination. Everyone knew that he loathed being called Percy.

"The cat's name," she laughed. "She calls him Percy."

"She?" He had been wrong about the married man. "That would be a landlady, not a landlord." Perhaps she wasn't with anyone after all. He would surely remedy that soon if they didn't leave.

"Sir? In your office," Tina whispered as she clutched the handkerchief in her hand. "You called out my name." She rubbed her fingers over the embroidered initials stitched into the corner.

"Hmm?" He looked up at her and casually swallowed the lump the formed in his throat. He searched her features for a convincing answer, but found none. "Oh, I was just talking through how I was going to speak with you." He gestured to his coat pocket. "Probably something similar to the letter you've written, right?" He placed his coat on the floor with his jacket and scarf before grabbing hold of the grate door, shutting it manually. "Sometimes I like to talk through how I want to say something, so I don't give anyone the wrong impression." He lied before placing a nervous hand on the small of Tina's back.

"Well, the letter mainly focuses on Abernathy's conduct and how I'd like to move forward with some things." She heaved a heavy sigh as if she held the weight of the world on her shoulders.

"Tina, you caused a major incident." Graves stated and tugged his handkerchief from her hand. He pushed her back a step and knelt down to take hold of the hairpin by his shoe. He gripped it tight enough that it started to bend when he formed a fist. He should walk out, or fire her—tell her she was meaningless in the scheme of it all. It would be a lie, but it would keep her at a distance. Far back enough that it would keep his desires at bay. Mercy Lewis, he wanted her, and he needed her even more.

"Well, the letter," she swallowed back a fresh wave of tears. "If you just read it..." She trailed off.

"Listen, they're just a bunch of jealous wurps." Still kneeling, he reached forward and brushed his hand over her kneecap. Tina glanced at the door, nervous. "Don't take it to heart." He turned his head up, eyes lustful, face flushed from the alcohol. "Also, can you blame Abernathy for giving you some added attention?" He motioned to all of her.

"Sir?" She whispered. "What are you doing?" She balled her hands into fists.

"You have a pull in your stocking, Tina." Percival pointed to it with the tip of the hairpin. As she nodded, he mouthed a repair charm, but fabric unraveled further with a larger split down to her ankle. Had he messed up the spell? He should use a wand when his head's swimming in liquor. He arched his eyebrows, concerned. "I am so sorry." His voice gentle, and genuine; an apology meant beyond her unraveling undergarment. He dared to pinch at the fabric, careful not to poke her with the pin that he fiddled with between his thumb and index finger.

"Oh, it's nothing," she lifted her jacket and skirt to examine the damage he had done. "One too many repair charms. I just need to purchase new ones. You don't have to apologize, or try to fix them…" She swatted at Percival's hand.

"No, Tina." He placed his free hand on her ankle. "I've ignored you for weeks, with reason." He pushed her hands away and grazed the tip of the pin up her stocking. The fabric gave way with ease, and Tina yelped as Percival's hand traveled past the hemline of her skirt and along her inner thigh.

"What are you doing?" She squirmed against his touch.

"Giving in." He groaned and let the hatpin fall to the floor. With a defiant, playful tug; he tore the stockings from her legs, and let them drape around her boots.

"Stop." She shoved him away and retrieved her wand to trigger the crank.

Getting to his feet, Percival whisked the wand from her hand and let it clatter to the floor behind them. "Do you mean that?" He walked her to the wall, pressing her back against the grate. He brushed a strand of her hair away and brought his lips to ear. "You didn't object this morning," he paused until she tilted her face toward his. "When I did this." He reached down and ran his hands up from the middle of her calves to her inner thighs. "In front of everyone." He exhaled a puff of his warm breath, tickling her neck.

"You're drunk, Mister Graves," she mumbled.

"Yes, I have had a bit too much, Tina." He took a step back and loosened his tie. "Do you want to know why I called out your name?" Percival rolled up his shirtsleeves.

"The letter." She pointed to his coat.

"I'm going to kiss you," he said, ignoring her. Tina let out a small gasp before his lips silenced her. The kiss was urgent, yet practiced. He had imagined this moment countless times since the first time he set eyes on her at MACUSA. With a playful hum, he laced his fingers through the gaps in the carved copper wall and pulled himself against her, grinding his pelvis upward and against her in one firm, fluid motion, making his intentions obvious. He let out a satisfied moan before breaking the kiss and looking back at her through heavy eyelids.

"Sir!" She wriggled her hands between their chests, pushing him back. "You're pie-eyed." She motioned to all of him. "This isn't right." She turned her head away, giving access to her neck. He dabbled kisses along her jawline, smiling the whole time.

"I know what I'm doing," he said, his voice gruff. He nipped at Tina's chin before pulling back to look at her. "I want you to rock yourself against my leg." With the order, he tossed his tie to the floor beside Tina's wand and his other garments.

"Mister Graves, I can't." Tina blushed. "I won't." She reaffirmed.

"Here, like this." He took his left leg and brought it to her knees. As he waited for her to respond, he took her hat and removed it along with the three pins he hadn't ruined. Percival brushed a hand through her thick, frizzy mop, her hair tangling around his fingers. "Do you want me to do it for you?" Prying Tina's legs apart with a huff, he thrust his shin against the copper and guided her down until she straddled his leg. Tina covered her mouth to stifle her embarrassed whimper as he hiked up her skirt and slip, draping them across his trousers.

"I...I knew what you meant, Mister Graves." She looked away, humiliated. As Tina relaxed she settled against his leg and Percival realized she didn't have anything on under the stockings he had just torn off of her legs.

"No," he clenched his jaw tight feeling himself swell against his slacks. He cupped Tina's face, kissing her gently. "Tina, don't be shy." He let his hands glide down the sides of her body, resting them on her hips.

"Mister Graves..." She looked toward the direction of her wand.

"Percival," he flicked his tongue along her jawline. " _Sir_ works too," he teased, nipping at her earlobe and kissing her again. Tina's mouth twitched against his kisses, her whole body trembling. "Should I stop?" He asked, this time he sounded very earnest.

"You're my boss." Her pale face turned rose red.

"Abernathy's your boss now," he jested. "Now, rock yourself against my leg." Percival coaxed. Tina's whole body trembled as he rolled his kneecap in a circular motion, grinding against her clitoris. With a murmur, she craned her neck over his shoulder, looking out into the hallway. The faded, scarce remains of the orb spell bobbed up and down. "It's just us." He assured her while taking advantage of the generous access to her neck.

"This isn't right." Tina pressed back against the wall and carefully examined him. Her eyes scanned over his features as he removed his vest and dress shirt, leaving him in a tightly fitted undershirt that outlined the muscles of his chest. Percival rocked his leg slowly back and forth, making the grated wall creak as Tina's hips rotated and squirmed against his rhythm. A dark thrill coursed through Percival at her resistance.

"I'll stop when you decide to rock yourself against me." He instructed. Percival took pause and waited for her to take over. "You like what I've done so far," he pointed out, smiling at feeling the heat grow between her thighs.

"I will not." She said, firm.

"Fine, have it your way." Percival prickled with dissatisfaction and threw a hand up against the grate for support while thrusting his leg back and forth against Tina's dampening cunt. Tina clamped a hand over her mouth to hold back her cry.

"Percival, please!" She begged as Percival leaned in and suckled her neck.

Graves slowed the pace of his leg thrusts, not wanting her to finish. Shuddering, Tina looked at his raised arm where a trail of painful looking scars, running from his shoulder to his wrist, was visible to her for the first time. "They were acquired during the war," he said, pulling back and lifting his undershirt up and over his head, removing it entirely. "This one too." He pointed to another large scar that stretched out like a spider web near his heart.

"We can't do this," Tina spoke with careful reproach as she reached down and grabbed hold of his leg, digging her nails in. She would leave a visible bruise where she pinched and prodded at his flesh.

"Many people do this, Tina." He decided that he could come up with a million retorts to her thousand protests.

As Tina pulled her hands away, her lips grew thin. He followed her gaze as it traveled below the belt. Percival's erection outlined through his slacks, now visible without his dress shirt and vest hiding him.

"Percival, I'm your subordinate!" She choked back tears of frustration that swelled in her eyes as she pushed against him, trying to free herself from his grip. Her words tapped a darker hidden desire within Percival. The one he reserved for select sexual fantasies that he always acted out alone.

Percival stilled his leg and with reserve rolled his eyes shut before bringing his left hand to his trousers. He carefully slipped his thumb under his pants and tugged away from himself to release some of the pressure on his swelling cock. "You know, I think you like the idea of getting caught." He said, lustful. "Or is it that you want me to get caught?" He took hold of his belt and pulled the buckle back, and with haste, he slipped it off.

"Will you just think about the implications for a moment?" She brought her hands up, crossing them lamely over her chest in a failed attempt to make herself more secure.

"Hmmm..." he nodded, rolling the belt up in his left hand. "Is that what has you so wet?" He taunted, feeling her soaking his pant leg. "The implications that I desire you?" He whispered into her ear and with a grin as he tugged her skirt up around her waistline and flipped the slip up, rubbing a hand playfully along her inner thighs and belly. With a lustful delicate motion, he traced the belt down, pulling away just before grazing the surface of her swollen clit. Tina arched herself toward him.

"Please," she said, breathless. "Someone _will_ hear us." She shut her eyes tight, too embarrassed to look at him. Perhaps Percival was starting to sober, because he had to admit, she might be right. Red would never say anything, he was great at keeping secrets, but no amount of muffliato spells would keep them silent. Percival wasn't fond of quiet sex, and even if they were quiet, everyone used the elevator.

"Very well..." Percival lowered his head in compliance. He withdrew his leg taking a step back and watched as her slip and skirt settled, the fabric had wrinkled. As Tina opened her eyes, Percival ran his hands across his pants, gripping at his erection. "Fuck," he groaned, licking his lips. "Tina," his voice sharp, nearly cracking, "I need to release." Percival knew Tina could see how hard he was for her, how much he desired her, how he ached. He kept his eyes on her, gaze intense as he blindly unfastened the buttons of his pants and allowed his erection to arch forward.

Percival was thick, the kind that hurt at first until a woman adjusted to having him inside of her. He knew to start out gentle then work to the pace of her arousal, building until his thrusts were all his lovers could feel and cry out for. Percival wanted Tina to beg for it. Instead, she held on to the grate for support, near collapse, speechless as he started to work himself in front of her. With a hum, he stroked his shaft with the left hand while rubbing the head with his right. He made sure he jerked himself to the same pace he'd had when thrusting his leg against her.

"Control yourself," she scolded before turning around, fixing her outfit to the best of her ability. She tore away the remainder of the stockings, freeing her ankles. "We should leave." She mumbled.

"Even if you want it?" Graves let go of himself and stepped close enough to feel the heat of her body against himself, his penis brushing against the soft fabric of her thick winter coat. Here he was, nearly naked, standing before Tina Goldstein, whose face he'd sworn to never look upon again. What happened to 23 days of glorious avoidance? She wasn't lesser than him—she was everything to him and he knew that now.

"Someone's going to find out," Tina whispered as she reached up and looped her fingers through the grate, resting her forehead against the copper, emotionally exhausted. Percival took the opportunity to wrap his arms around her slim waistline and with a jerk, pulled her hips back and pressed himself against her. He rolled his eyes shut and let out a quiet moan. Percival rubbed her shoulders a bit, leaning into her and molding himself to her frame the best she would allow while grasping the grate. He kissed her neck, biting down on the bit he could access.

"Let me undress you," Percival sighed, genuinely sweet.

Tina gasped, her whole body trembling. He could smell the faint scent of her sex as he glided a hand up her legs, palming her ass.

"Percival?" She stood, pressing her back against him. He let her body relax into him, his head nestling against her neck, his chin on her right shoulder. He pecked her on the cheek. "Just..." She dropped her head. "Just this once?" She craned her head back, trying to make eye contact.

It was all Percival needed to hear. "Just between us," he responded, taking hold of Tina's coat and pulling it off. He kicked it away, adding it to the pile of their garments. "Face me, Tina," he ordered. As she turned, he pressed her against the wall, kissing her passionately as she finally gave in and kissed him back. He moaned into her mouth as her fingers traced the outlines of the scar on his chest, gracefully dancing over his well-shaped abdomen.

Percival pulled back, making quick work of her blouse. Tina's head fell back with a gasp as his rough hands made contact with her smooth, bare skin. Before she could protest, he had removed everything except her skirt and slip. She shivered, her nipples hardening beneath the silky fabric. With a breathless nod for him to continue, Percival gave a forceful tug, the one strap of her slip tearing and the other falling off her shoulder and down to her hips, exposing her breasts.

He paused, taken aback by how vulnerable she looked with her legs spread, barely holding herself up, the skirt and slip tangled around her belly, her nipples peaking, begging to be sucked on. If anyone was close by, they surely knew what was happening in the elevator. He struggled not to look as Tina did earlier, the small glowing orbs bobbing around in his peripheral.

"Sir?" She asked, her whole body quivered.

"You're beautiful, Tina. Just let me look at your body for a moment." He brought his hand to his dick, giving himself a quick rub as he memorized the way her breasts moved with each breath. The way she maintained her delicate mound, keeping the hair natural, but trimmed. He stepped forward and knelt down, bringing himself between her legs. "Hold yourself up," he instructed, more drunk with lust than the Ogden's at this point.

"Sir, I'm not sure what you mean." She closed her legs, feeling shy.

Percival furrowed his brows, questioning if she had ever been with a man for a moment, but then took hold of her wrists, placing her hands on the railing. "Look at me, Tina," he said, making her face burn. He waited for her to look down at him, and saw her shock as he parted her legs and effortlessly separated her engorged labia, as if Percival had done so to hundreds of women before her—he had. His eyes wistful, he placed a hand firmly on her belly as he slid two fingers inside of her with ease. Percival kissed her inner thigh as she soaked his fingers, practically dripping for him. He couldn't remember the last time he had excited a woman so much with foreplay.

"I don't think I can keep this from my sister." Tina whimpered, holding back a moan. He ignored the comment. If it came to that, he would handle the other Goldstein sister.

Tina started to move at her natural rhythm with his gentle fingering. Percival started slow, one, two, three gentle strokes, licking and nipping her thighs. He let out a low growl before pressing down on her belly with his left hand. "Grip tight." He instructed before he suddenly started to thrust his fingers into her, fucking her with his hand. He tensed his wrist and wriggled his fingers back and forth, preparing her for his cock while making sure his fingers glided over her g-spot. He purposefully avoided her clit, teasing her.

Tina's whole body became rigid with pleasure, her mouth parting and the sound of her wet arousal growing hollow as Graves plunged a third finger into her. He pressed down, feeling his fingers against his opposite hand as he worked her. She was about to scream, but he stifled it, withdrawing his hand and standing to kiss her again.

He stood with her, kissing her deeply, both their bodies shaking—both gasping with desire. He brought his hand up and sucked on his fingers, tasting her, allowing Tina to watch. He brought his hand back between her legs, rubbing her slow. Tina kissed him, her teeth clattering against his. Percival opened his mouth to her, letting her tongue explore, taking pleasure in her little moans. Distracted, he didn't notice her reaching down to take hold of his hard-on. Percival bucked against her, groaning. He kissed her and pressed his forehead into the crook of her shoulder, wanting her to continue.

"Should I?" She asked, giving him a quick tug. "With... with my mouth?" She shifted against him, ready to get on her knees. Percival's lips parted, silent in his shock. If he didn't have better control over his body, he would have cum right then, pouring over both of them.

"No, Tina." Percival gritted his teeth, pumping himself through her clasped hand. Percival had imagined Tina giving him head, but never had he imagined her asking permission. He kissed her deep and shook his head, reassuring. "I'm too far along for that." He brought a hand to her breast, fondling it as he brought the other into his mouth.

He flicked his tongue over her nipple and when she relaxed he bit down with his teeth, giving a playful tweak to draw the pleasure from the pain. Her hands grabbed hold of his head, her fingers tangling in his hair, pressing his mouth against her breast. Tina choked back a cry as little tremors of pleasure washed over her with each flick of his tongue.

"I can't take it anymore," Tina all but whined, her whole body losing control and giving in to his every touch.

"That's it," he encouraged, licking his tongue between her breasts and clamping his thumb and index fingers over her nipples, pulling and watching them shake when he released. He reached up, sinking his teeth into her collarbone. "You're ready, Tina?" He asked, his voice thick.

"I'll rock myself against you," she insisted, spreading her legs willingly, wanting to bring herself to orgasm.

"Turn around," he smiled, slipping off his pants, letting them drop down to his ankles.

Tina complied without question or hesitation. She took hold of the railing and turned her hips back and up, spreading herself for him. Mercy Lewis, what she did to him—he dared not tell her.

"Like this?" Tina asked.

Percival nodded as he took hold of her waist, tapping her ass playfully with his hands. He bent her forward, dipping Tina's hips back enough, so she pressed against his quivering cock, the veins swelling, ready for release.

"I'll be gentle," he comforted Tina as he wrapped his fingers around the base of his cock tight, restricting blood flow. With care he glided the tip up and down her entrance, making her legs wobble. He did this several times, getting himself slick off her excitement. As his eyes slid shut he pressed the head of his penis inside, Tina's walls pulsing, growing tight. He let out a wheeze, wishing they had started sooner.

"Percival," she nodded after a moment. He bit his lip as he guided himself into her fully feeling her relax around him. "Keep going." She reached her hand back, clawing at his hip.

"Fuck, Tina," he moaned, starting to rock into her with firm, short thrusts. "Rub yourself; you're so tight." He stood Tina upright before tossing them both up against the wall, her breasts pressing through curves of the copper. Without giving Tina a chance, he brought his hand over her clit, grinding his fingers overtop as he started to fuck her.

He pulled his hand away when he felt Tina's whole body tremble against him, bringing her close to release. With a chuckle he bit at her neck, leaving marks like sinful badges of honor. "Percival, I don't think I can last much longer." She whimpered, sounding disappointed.

"That's it," he smiled, nodding his head as he started to quicken and deepen his thrusts. With a satisfied huff, he withdrew before bucking back into her again, relishing the feeling of her walls restricting against him as his pelvis and balls slapped against her ass with each powerful plunge of his member.

Anyone could hear Percival and Tina from the hallway as he started pounding himself into her with a rhythm that had them both sobbing out for the other. Tina's mewled cries bounced down the hall, muffled only by Percival's vigor beckoning her to orgasm. The elevator swayed from side to side, propelled by the motion of their sexual tension.

They finished soon after they began, the foreplay getting the best of them. Percival pulled Tina's trembling frame against himself as he fell back onto their clothes. They laid there for a moment caught up in themselves. Percival had the best of intentions to kiss her passionately, tell her how perfect she felt as he came inside of her; but instead, he found himself wondering if Tina was the type of girl who took protective measures. He brought his hand to his mouth and bit at his knuckle, cursing himself for being reckless rather than loving.

Instead of saying anything, he reached his hand up and triggered the elevator. Percival brushed her hair back, damp with sweat. With a jolt they started to move, the cables hurtling them upward to the ground floor. Tina pursed her lips and nestled against him as the chilly air rushed over them both. He kissed the top of her head and held her tight.

"Percival," she pulled away.

"Here, let me." He reached over with his handkerchief, bringing it down between her legs. She shook at his touch, her whole body still on fire. Percival pressed sweet kisses over her mouth, jaw and neck, mouthing a breathless spell that cleaned the space and dressed them both in their clothes. As the elevator came to a halt, he helped Tina to her feet and took hold of her delicate fingers. "Are you alright?" He asked.

Tina pulled back, grazing her fingers over her neck, feeling the little bruises he left with his teeth. She bashfully nodded before rushing down the staircase as the large clock chimed one o'clock. "Goodnight, sir." Tina called out, and apparated out of sight.

Percival debated going after her but realized he had never been to her home before. He cursed, shoving his hands into his coat. Blinking, Percival pulled out the letter Tina had pleaded for him to read. Taking a cautious seat on the steps, he peeled back the wax seal.


	4. Tina Goldstein - A Molded Woman

Percival splayed himself across his bed and looked up the water stain on his plaster ceiling. The neighbor above him must have overflowed the bath again. Any other night he would have knocked on their door to yell at them, but he was too tired; too focused on other things. Like, for instance, the emotional weight he felt sinking deep into his chest. His mind raced over every detail of the past twenty-four hours.

The slip of Tina's boot on the ice. The tear in her stocking. The way she cried out for him when he brought her to release. He skipped over her resistance to the best of his ability—that's what had his stomach in knots. Had he pushed things too far, too fast? What of it now? That mournful demeanor when she left had him feeling ill.

He could still smell Tina all around him. As he slid his eyes shut he could almost feel her, the warmth of her skin and the texture of her hair tangled around his fingers as they kissed. He shifted a bit imagining the motion of their bodies as they moved as one, both desperate for the finish. That was over now. He was alone again, but it felt different than usual. He felt empty. Other women left with a giggle and a kiss. Tina left with a farewell and nothing more.

He turned and glanced over at the opened letter crumpled up in his right hand. It was Tina's resignation. It detailed her gratitude and appreciation for her time spent at MACUSA. There were three pages just for Percival. She joked about their first meeting and how the only thing she could focus on was his expressive eyebrows. She quickly grew to admire his work ethic—though at times strict— and enjoyed the late nights in the office and how he'd bring her a cup of coffee when no one was looking. There was even a particular paragraph detailing her thanks to him for molding her into the woman she was today.

Percival dragged a hand across his face, scratching at the beard stubble that had sprouted. Did Tina's letter have the same relevance now as it had two hours ago? He snapped his eyes shut as he recalled her whimpered moans of encouragement while he fucked her ruthlessly up against the copper grate.

Percival rubbed his thumb over a smeared section of ink; a particular section where she apologized for her actions against the Barebone woman. emIt's just a melted snowflake/em, Percival lied to himself, knowing it was a tear. The final section detailed her decision to leave outlining the harassment she endured from Abernathy. She didn't give details, but the implication was there, and it had Percival furious. He had to admit the fault in the system. As Percival thought about it, MACUSA didn't have a policy for harassment—they wanted to keep these cases internal and handled privately between the offender and victim. He hadn't thought much of it until now.

He hadn't made love to Tina. They fucked. Had he harassed her into having sex with him? Had he been too forceful with her? What if she wrote another letter and instead handed it to Seraphina instead of personally giving it to him? He chucked the letter to the floor. What if she never returned?

"Damn it, Tina." He sat up and adjusted his johns around his waistline, the lean curves of his abdomen were covered in small marks that were beginning to sting from where Tina had dug her nails into him.

He had undressed, leaving his sweat and sex-soaked clothes in a pile on the floor by his closet. Walking into the kitchen, he rubbed the back of his neck while looking at the mess he had left himself to clean up. Plates were up to the faucet, and something foul permeated the air. Annoyed, he flipped through his contact list and found the numeric code for the late-night receptionist at MACUSA. They always had someone on staff in case of emergencies.

"Betty speaking," coughed an older woman with a thick German accent. A swirl of cigarette smoke poured through the charmed voice box. Percival was fond of Betty; she had been close with his mother. She always reminded everyone that she was retiring, but never left her job. She was a strong woman with a sweet tooth who used to sneak him candies whenever she visited the family estate.

"You still smoking those Lucky's, Betty?" Percival threw on the charm, pleased to hear her voice. The smoke reminded Graves that he had cigars stashed in one of the kitchen cabinets. He pulled the cord along with him and reached up into the top cabinet.

"Percy, is that you?" Her voice rose a couple of octaves. "Sweetie, you never call anymore." She took a big sip from her nightly coffee. "It's half past two, is something wrong?" He heard her push the wheelchair back; the screech of wheels reminded him of her age.

"Nothing emergent, but I'd like to be patched through to the Goldstein residence." Graves smiled, satisfied when he found the box with two cigars left. He quickly began his new search for the cigar punch.

"Oh, are you courting the legilimency girl?" He could hear her nibbling on a biscuit. Percival's stomach growled, he hadn't eaten since the afternoon.

"Mmm, something like that." He grumbled and snipped the end with the cutter before snapping his fingers, lighting the cigar with series of short, quick puffs letting the taste roll over his tongue.

"Now, Percy when did you start to smoke?"

"It's a rare treat," he teased.

"Bless, if your parents were still around I'd have them scold you!" The excitement in her voice started her coughing again. "Connecting to the Goldstein house. Now, you better visit the phone department. I'm doing day shift on Tuesday." Another spiral of smoke flowed up through the box.

"Goodnight, Betty," he smiled, crossing his arms over his chest.

Graves stood still as he listened to the metallic ring as it called out six times. His heart fluttered as it crackled.

"Hello?"

It was Tina. His heart pounded in his chest and he braced himself against the counter for support.

"Tina," Percival choked. He smashed the cigar out, smoldering the embers. He waved his hands about, not wanting the smoke to waft through as Betty's had to his home.

He listened as Tina covered the phone and bickered back and forth with Queenie.

"Oh, Mister Graves?" Queenie had the phone now. "Is everything alright?" Her voice was more pronounced than Tina's, but saucier; a lot of the guys loved that about Queenie Goldstein and, much to her damnation, she knew it.

"I'd like to speak with Tina," Percival crossed his arms over his chest, nervous.

Another pause and several more whispers. Graves felt nauseous; he just wanted to hear Tina's voice again. Tell her— _tell her what?_ He hadn't thought this through.

"Tina's gone to bed," she mumbled.

"Queenie, she answered the phone," he dropped his head, frustrated, when she didn't respond to the accusation in his voice. "Just let her know..." He thought carefully for a moment. "Tell Tina that I expect to see her at the office meeting first thing Monday morning." He gripped the voice box, nervous.

"Very well, sir," Queenie affirmed. "Nothing else?" He could hear Tina knock something over in the background, upset with Queenie.

"I read the letter." He stated before disconnecting the voice box. Percival hexed himself as he looked around the room. How had this happened? How had one slip of a boot led to this? He'd handle things with Tina on Monday.


End file.
